Warrior of the Void Book 1, Chapter 88

Muur’s search for a shrine was as simple as finding a grain of sand in the desert. That is to say, small and discreet spaces of worship were spread out all around the Ossuary. It wasn’t the problem here, the problem was that a bunch of things she’d put in that convenient mental box of ‘for later’ were finally getting confronted.

She wasn't the most religious person, just an agnostic flying by ‘do good and be kind’, but being in a world where deities were tangible beings did wonders for your spiritual awakening. However, by that same value, one really, really shouldn’t approach religion in this world willy nilly. A view that was, admittedly, exacerbated by her stance on such things being a deeply personal affair.

If someone found the touch of divinity by climbing to the mountains whomever they believed in had made and witnessing the vista of creation sprawling out in every direction, then that was just as valid a form of communing as someone having a quiet reverie in a church. But she digressed, point was that it wasn’t something you put on or off like a coat, and it’d be a disservice to both herself and the gods to just hop in blindly rather than give the choice it’s due consideration and weighing with all information made available to her.

Issue was, of course, that things had been so hectic and there was so much clawing for her attention in so many directions she hadn’t had the time and energy to properly dive into the religious texts and speak with the clergy on theology.

“You seem troubled, child.” One of Thal’s priests seemed to have noticed her plight and approached her.

“Aye, that I am.” Muur admitted freely, “I have been remiss in properly engaging with the scripture and the faith, and now that I finally have a quiet moment to properly devote to the task, I find myself at a loss on how to go about it.”

The priest, a hyur, hummed quietly as he pondered her worries, “You must be one of the Grandmasters’ newer adventuring recruits then? A long time member of your order would have been made to study scriptures quite thoroughly." Without waiting for an answer, he waved her in the direction of the library, “Setting aside my surprise that their plan to bolster their ranks with new acolytes is somehow bearing fruit, I would recommend heading to the library. Its walls hold a number of tomes that were once basic requirements for joining the ranks of the Thaumaturges– If I recall, they should be close to the entrance?” Pausing for just a moment, he moved his hands and arms as if retaking steps, “Second row, third section? Regardless, they ought to be simple to find. Due to their seminal nature many of the cloth consult them. But, if you would rather a more personable approach, a peddler priest had recently returned from his voyages and is allowing any who wishes to to consult him.”

“Thank you.” She replied with a relieved sigh and a small smile, feeling the weight of choice paralysis slide off her shoulders. “I think I will begin with the priest, I have been a nomad for most of my life so I expect we will find quite a lot of common ground in which to discuss.”

“Quite understandable.” Smiling back at her, the priest quickly listed the directions towards the peddler of the cloth, “I will warn you, while they are as important to our faith as any other members. Their wisdom is far more grounded than that of other priests. Theirs is a rhetoric through which they’ll convince a man to engage in trade not because of some grand, godly design, but simply because of how it will grow that man’s purse.”

“Hah, have to draw in people somehow, and it isn’t like anyone has time to think about spirituality when they’re busy making sure they’ll have food and shelter for the day. And once someone starts seeing how a good bit of trade in coin and favors can turn around a life, the rest ought to follow.” Muur chuckled softly, cottoning onto how that kind of priest would operate. At least under ideal circumstances.

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Even on the off chance that speaking with the traveling priest somehow led to nothing of worth. Muur could proudly say that she was now capable of actually navigating the innards of her new home! The trick was in noticing the minor religious carvings in the stoneworks. Once you had, getting from A to B was not nearly as painful.

“Yes? Do come in!” Knocking on the door of the small shrine the peddler was supposed to be holding his consultations, a certain kumis-loving merchant’s voice invited her right inside.

“I see providence keeps having a sense of humor.” Muur chuckled as she slipped in with a small smile on her face.

“Hm?” The man tilted his head with a quizzical look on his face, “How so, if I may ask?”

“Got pointed this way to discuss ground-level theology, third time now I bump into you and get valuable advice out of it.” Muur explained as she gently closed the door behind her with a deft twist of her tail. 

“I can certainly help you with discussing theology, yes.” Brendt(?) said with a slight smile, “But I'm afraid this is the first time I have met you in my life, let alone the third– although, I can easily guess why you'd think otherwise. Was it perhaps Brendt?”

“Aye. Twins?” The Thaumaturge asked. With how identical their faces and voices were, there were few other options.

Also, those two must get so many jokes thrown their way given the duo of deities they followed.

“Triplets, actually. Brendt, Brennan and I, Bremondt.” He said with a wry smile, “Our parents were something of a pair of jokesters, rest their souls. If I were to guess, you'd be the ‘surprise’ my brother mentioned a few times when I had a chance to meet him.”

“How’s the family doing?” Muur asked, as good an icebreaker as any.

Except apparently she was mistaken, because Bremondt’s expression immediately soured, “Brendt… I’m afraid that he’s not well– not in any physical way, lest you wonder.” Bitting his lip in thought, he shook his head and forged on, “One of his dearest friends was taken from us recently. He’s taken it rather poorly and has been in grieving ever since.”

The Au’Ra made no efforts whatsoever to hide her wince, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to be of help. We don’t exactly have a friendship spanning years, but I would like to think he is counted among my friends.”

“I will keep your offer in mind,” He said politely, “For now, he's in need of time– though, if you ever see him eating in the mess, see if you can't keep him company?”

“Will do.” She replied without missing a beat, making a firm mental note to scan the hall every time she so much as passed by, cavalcade of nonsense devouring her time and energy or not.

With the close of those unfortunate news, Muur took another look at the shrine. It wasn't much to write about, a small altar with a statuette of the Twins, a good dozen pillows meant to be sat or kneeled on– and just as many wooden mini-pulpits stacked in a corner. The miniature desks were almost certainly meant to be grabbed in order to be able to read, or take, notes without using the raw ground.

“I believe we've dwelled enough on this all too common tragedy for now,” Bremondt said with a sad smile, “You wished to discuss theology if I recall? Was it to gain a better understanding of Eorzea, or… a deeper calling perhaps?”

“The latter.” Muur sighed softly, “With all I’ve been through lately, I feel more drawn to wearing the black properly rather than just as an adventurer, but I’d be doing myself and the gods a huge disservice by making that decision on just hunches and what I brush by on day to day instead of giving it proper consideration and making full use of the resources available to me.”

“More dutiful than we three ever were then!” The merchant's chuckle was filled with nostalgia and mirth, “Let us take a seat and see if we can't turn those brushes into a proper painting, eh?”